Trapped

The walls close in around her
As she sits quiet in her cell
Ignoring fused loud voices
Her daily living hell.

The phone rings, another voice
Demanding of her time.
When all she longs for in this life
Is peace and love and rhyme

My love, I cannot express,
With all these loud distractions
It drags me from my special place
Of wandering abstractions.


A note from the writer: First thank you all for your reviews. But some things said challenged me to examine how and why I wrote this piece as it is. I was chatting with a friend and during that chat I wrote this. It took only a few minutes. I recall being in a frustrated but conceding mood. Writing this poem was sort of my way to relieve my frustrations.

Poetry is a difficult thing for me to pull off. It seems the words only come when I am highly emotional or frustrated. As I re-read my own words I wondered, why did I move from third person (she) to first person (I)? And it dawned on me. My subconscious was telling me something. It is my actual journey from that place where as a writer I am removed from myself. I do not exist in that land of creative thinking. But the distractions dragged me back to reality, back to me. Funny how things come to light.